


Golden

by BrynLara



Category: The Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare, The Wicked Powers Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Angels, Canon Autistic Character, Centurions - Freeform, Demons, F/F, F/M, Healing, Immunity, M/M, Multiple Dimensions, Original Autistic Character, Original Female Character - Freeform, Other Worlds, Scholomance, Secrets, Sidhes - Freeform, Sirens, The Golden Ones, The Shadows of the Downworld, Zara gets annoying, multiple attempted murders, travelling dimensions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-05-30 19:37:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19410001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrynLara/pseuds/BrynLara
Summary: But tall skyscrapers didn’t belong in Cornwall.Onyx wasn’t anywhere nearby he noticed as he looked around. She must have closed the portal early. She was working on her portals after all. Or he was dragged out of the portal. He had heard of that happening before.Whatever was the reason, he was not where he was supposed to be.Three years after the Shadowhunters were kicked out of Idris, Ty is now a centurion. He is heading to a mission, but never ends up to the location.His best friend is on another mission too, but she is keeping secrets.Kit has been happily living with Tessa and Jem for the three years, but he is suddenly torn away from the world.And the Shadows of the Downworld are finally seen.





	1. Prologue

Elvina’s footsteps clanged on the stones with leather thigh high boots, blacker than even the shadows in the corridor. Her almost black skin was dotted with white spots like stars and it hid her in the lengthening shadows, but her bright straight white hair distinguished her from it. Two ochre brown horns sprouted from the top of her head and added almost a foot to her already tall height.

Finally, she entered the courtyard where some of the younger sidhes were sparring. Going up to Heidi, she corrects the sky girl’s stance.

After a few minutes, she goes to the shadowy edge of the courtyard where a few weapons had been left out by those who had already left.

Suddenly, one of the sorcerers, a plump boy shorter than her, burst out of the corridor’s shadows. His bare feet clanged against the floor as he ran, huffing, towards her and held her eyes by placing both of his cloud grey hands on her shoulders.

“Hansel, maybe you should put on some shoes for once,” cried Heidi from across the courtyard. He had attracted the eyes of every trainee.

“We don’t... have time… for… joking around,” he said desperately, huffing the sentence out in chunks. “There… we have … spotted some... odd magic… on the border. … You need to… come with me.”

Elvina didn’t wait for further explanation. She led the way to the Sorcerers’ headquarters, Hansel struggling to keep pace.

Then they arrived in the room. It was covered in miscellaneous objects - many only the sorcerers would know what they were or did. On one wall of the room, one which the sorcerers had set up, had two picture on: one of a blonde boy with light blue eyes and likely gentry heritage, the other a black haired boy with pale skin and eyes the colour of a metal blade and a resemblance to a long dead necromancer – Titania Blackthorn.

“What’s up with the photos of the boys? New crushes, Hansel?” she teased, winking in his direction.

“No, new otp,” responded a lilac sidhe with particularly long horns, Eurton, who leaned back from his wheelie chair. She lightly laughed, but then saw Hansel’s grave look.

“General Elvina,” he explained, “strong magic is building up around these two. Enough to open a portal.”

“So, that’s not our problem,” she said. “They’re shadowhunters; they don’t even know we exist.”

But then he looked at her in the eye with a serious and grave look, and she thought he might be losing it.

“One’s a descendant of the First Heir.” She gasped. “I don’t think she knows of his existence yet, but she will want him dead once she does.”

“Apply to the High Lord and High Lady for the permission of them to be watched and protected,” she ordered, but he looked at her with wide eyes.

“But why not do it now?” 

“Do you think I have that auth-” she started; however, she was cut off.

“Ward Breach!” shouted Eurton, falling from his chair.

Her footsteps pounded on the stone as she ran towards the exit of the castle. But she couldn’t even make it here. Already the intruders filled the corridors. 

Faeries. Sharp-pointed ears. Spears and shields. The Seelie Court.


	2. Chapter 1

His suitcase was resting against the wall. Unopened. Instead, his shirts were placed in a neat pile on his bed, organised in the order of colour (which was actually the order he had selected them from the wardrobe) and folded with his trousers and other clothes in neat piles next to it. Now he watched the door to his bedroom whilst he sat on a grey armchair in the corner of the room.

There was a knock on the door: a light tap from a nervous hand.

“Come in,” he said, making his way to stand.

A short girl, with dark golden blonde falling in long curls over her shoulders and light brown skin, had opened the door. She walked in dragging a smaller, shiny, silver suitcase on wheels behind her.

“I brought the spare suitcase,” she said in a thick British accent. She smiled at him. He grabbed the suitcase from her hand and heaved the suitcase onto his bed.

“Thank you,” he told her as he started placing the piles into the now open suitcase.

She sat down on the bed, causing it to create at the imprint of her body on the oyster colour sheets. Glancing back up at him, she watched with her amber eyes as Ty finished packing the suitcase and zipped it up with a ‘zeee’ sound.

“So you’re coming back on the 15th of May?” she questioned, her hands facing outwards away from her as she kept herself up with them. He had met her three years ago in the Scholomance and they had become centurions together a year ago. She was the second youngest shadowhunter to become a centurion, him being the youngest. This was her way of reassurance, he knew.

“Yes, I should be,” he replied, putting the suitcase wheels on the wooden floorboards. “I guess I’ll text you if I’m running late or early.”

Pulling the suitcase behind him, he went around the bed and towards the doorway. Aste had stood up and exited the room ahead of him.

Her hand grasped the handle of a larger suitcase that had been left on the landing: a black suitcase with silver glitter fading out from the top.

“I’m also going.” She glanced down at the floor, her head tilted towards the ground, before she slightly lifted her head up to look at his eyes. This was one of the only times he made eye contact with someone. “To the Scholomance,” she continued, aware that this was the first time she told him. “Trinity and the rest need me for a mission. I think they would invite you too – if you were free.” She had always been closer to their friends than him. No matter how similar they seemed to be, they always preferred her to him. Aste was always described as a sweet, innocent person even though she massively disagreed.

“I’ll also text you when I get back. I don’t know when that will be.”

Stepping out of the front door of their flat, they headed towards the staircase. Aste hated lifts.

She carried the suitcase over the stairs with ease as she walked down the stairs. Muscles covered her arms like every shadowhunter, but they were smoother and less prominent. Hours had been spent getting the ones she had for almost six years. Many would have bigger ones by now, but her body’s muscles were like a faerie’s. 

He followed her down the stairs and out onto the streets of Edinburgh. Pulling the suitcases along, they headed towards the nearby park.

“You know, I’m turning 19 soon,” she said to fill in the silence. It felt irrelevant, but there hadn’t been a conversation for at least five minutes, so it wasn’t.

“Yeah,” he replied, glancing towards the ground. “What do you plan to do for it.”

“I don’t know.” Her hand fluttered like a butterfly by her side. “It just seems so soon. Like I have barely turned 18.” Looking towards her, her head was tilted up towards the blue sky, breathing in the fresh air.

“Anyway, it doesn’t matter,” she continued, “I think Abigail and Oliver and the rest are planning a surprise party, anyway.”

Grass brushed against his shoes as they entered the park. On a bench sat a blue skinned Catarina with another warlock - with long, slightly curved, golden bronze horns - danced around some trees nearby.

“Did I just say anyway twice?” she questioned to herself. 

Walking up to Catarina, the other warlock ran up to them.

“Hi, I’m Onyx – Onyx Hope,” she greeted, a huge smile spread across her face. She held out her hand and Aste took it, hesitantly, for a handshake. Ty didn’t give her one, but nor did she notice.

“Hello,” said Catarina, glaring at her friend whilst she stood up and brushed down her long skirt. “Sorry to cut this short, but I have to meet with another centurion, and I don’t want to stay in the Edinburgh cold for long.”

Ty didn’t think it was cold for May. It wasn’t anywhere near snowing and he had seen it snow in late April here.

Asteria went off behind the trees, pushing several branches away to clear the path, with Catarina soon following.

But as Catarina passed him, she whispered in his ear, “Just a warning. Onyx is still working on her portals.” Then she walked off to behind the trees too.

He didn’t know what he was supposed to do with that information.

Onyx walked up to him in her dark blue sweatshirt that said ‘NYC’ and black jeans. It actually wasn’t his first time meeting her and she seemed more comfortable in these clothes than her usual ones. Like always, she carried a staff made of twisting wood with a white crystal implanted in the top. She had been Magnus Bane’s apprentice at one point, if he remembered correctly.

“Don’t listen to her,” she said, her light brown hair bouncing as she nodded her head. “She acts like I’m still a child. I’m almost 150.”

He nodded, not sure how to react, as she waved her hand and a black spiralling portal appeared in front of her. Black chaos like her eyes. 

His stomach was tossed about as darkness spun around him. Bile rose up in his throat as he was thrown against a wall and then using it for support.

The tall skyscrapers spun around him as he steadied his head with his hand. Glancing around, he saw he was in a side street as there were bins overflowing with black bin bags and there was no road, only pavement.

But tall skyscrapers didn’t belong in Cornwall.

Onyx wasn’t anywhere nearby he noticed as he looked around. She must have closed the portal early. She was working on her portals after all. Or he was dragged out of the portal. He had heard of that happening before.

Whatever was the reason, he was not where he was supposed to be.

“Knick bocker Glory please, Kitty,” cried Mina as she pointed to the chocolate covered ice cream sign on the ice cream van’s ice cream menu with a smile. 

“Okay, Min-Min,” he said, pulling the coins from his pocket and ordering the ice creams.

“That will be £7.” He gave him the money and took the two ice creams.

They walked along the street, Mina occasionally kicking up the loose stones. The house was coming up, big against the setting sun.

The atmosphere changed. Not cold or warm, but different. Less clear and more clear at the same time. Thick and heavy.

“Mina, hurry up please,” he told her, increasing his pace and hoping she would join him. But children weren’t the fastest.

Coming up was their front door – luckily.

Opening the door, Mina ran through, dripping her ice cream on the burgundy carpet. Tessa exited another room and her eyes widened. She picked up Mina.

There was a pull from his side. A stone rolled under his foot as his body was pulled off the ground slowly.

Then it flashed by.

Tessa stumbled forward as his body was pulled with great force and through into a dark space. 

“Greetings, Miss Sparkle,” said a young woman to her mom. Isla hid behind the wall between the houseboat’s living room and dining room. There was no door between them, only two archways. A glass wall separated the kitchen and living room. The kitchen led to the rest of the rooms and she was in the dining room.

Her mom wrote down on her notepad and the woman nodded and smiled before responding. 

The woman wore a saffron dress – frilly at the waist with spaghetti straps and it reached to just below her knees in one motion. Her dark brown hair was kept in place by clips to fall over in waves down only one shoulder. Runes were on her neck and led down her arms and the rest of her body.

She crept forward towards her mom, her dark brown hair in lose curls falling in her eyes. Her mom shared her hair and most of her appearance – she had never known her father like the rest of them.

Now she stood at her mom’s side and leant down to start whispering in her ear. Suddenly, her mom grabbed her wrist hard, glaring at her with her turquoise eyes. She had high, defined cheek bones with clear skin and a mole on her cheek. 

Then she was dragged out the room, through the kitchen and into the hallway.

“Isla, what do you think you are doing?” she whispered, a harsh tone to her voice.

“Asking you a -”

She was cut off by a hand being brought down on her face. It was the first time her mom had hit her.

Pain spread through her face as a tear rolled down her cheek.

“You do not speak in front of non-sirens,” she whisper-shouted. “Especially my clients.”

“You have-”

Slap! 

Her cheeks were red with two defined handprints.

“Go to your room,” was the final thing she said before pushing her backwards towards her door and exiting to the kitchen and then further.

Opening her bedroom door, a sob escaped her mouth as her face became wet. She collapsed against the door as she stared out at the moon rising in the cloudless sky.

A smile grew on her face as she watched the stars twinkle in the night sky. Standing up, she walked towards the single glass door next to the two massive windows, grabbed the key from the shelf below one of the windows, and turned the key in the door.

Stepping out onto the porch, the water lapped the deck. The gate was already open, so she pulled off her thin white and navy stripped t-shirt and threw it onto the deck. It revealed her black and white spotted bikini with the strap going around the back of her neck. Then she took her blue jean shorts off and underneath was the top bikini’s bottom pair. It had two buckles on both sides by her hips.

She held her arms above her head and she dived into the ocean.


	3. Chapter 2

Kit’s eye fluttered open. Going to sit up, he tilted forward almost falling over. He was standing. Had he fallen asleep standing up?

Looking around, he was standing on the pavement facing a congested street. The cars were nice quality – sleek and shiny -, but very polluting, which he could tell from the make. Grey smoke puffed out of the pipes.

A body pushed against his shoulder. He stumbled to the side a bit before he held his balance with a stance. Then he turned to see a man in a business suit rush by.

“Sorry.”

“You shouldn’t just stand there,” said an annoyed female voice. The owner of the voice, a girl a few years older than him, pushed him from the front, but he didn’t find himself falling again.

This was when he started walking around the city. Or the small part of it. It was New York.

Skyscrapers reached up and scratched the sky. Glass covered the buildings in rectangular reflective frames and the buildings were in organised blocks. Now he knew what he was looking for. The New York Institute.

Jace and Clary had invited him to their wedding. It had been about two years ago at the top of the institute on a flat part of the roof. Around the area had been a stone fence and they had set it up with hanging and wall plants. There was an arch silhouetting the city lights and a set of chairs faced it. The wedding overall had been small.

“Kit!” shouted a voice behind him.

Turning around, there was a long wavy red-haired girl walking fast towards him. She had glamorous green eyes and wore a light purple jumper. It was knitted with patterns of crosses with fir trees – matching her eye colour – sprouted from the base from a top of a silver mountain. Her jeans were dark blue and ripped and partially covered by black leather knee high boots.

“Huh, Clary,” he responded. Something wasn’t right about her.

“Oh, Kit,” she continued, now standing in front of him. She was still about 5ft. “I meant to text you. Have you received the invitation for the ten-year anniversary?”

“What ten-year anniversary?” he exclaimed. What was going on?

“You know, the ball?” She raised an eyebrow at him. Her neck was bare, fiar skin with a light dusting of freckles.

“No…” He dragged off the word, unsure what she was even talking about. What ten-year anniversary? What ball? This was definitely the first time he had heard about it.

Also, how was he in New York? Had he been kidnapped with the help of a warlock? Was this to do with the First Heir? But then why New York? This was too confusing. Why him? Why does this happen to him? What was even happening?

“Oh, I’ve got spares.” She ruffled through her shoulder bag and brought out a bunch of A5 cream invitations held together by a rubber band. Pulling out one of the invitations and placing it in his hand. “Here, see you there.” Smiling, she turned around and walked into a café on the street.

Looking at the invitation, it was written in a black swirly font with a border made of black ivy. The ball was called ‘Ball of the Night’ and it was tomorrow night at the New York’s institute. It must be a shadowhunter event – supposedly with downworlders too. How had he not heard of this before? It was relatively formal event with a black-tie dress code. But… 

Wait. Did Clary have runes?

Glancing at his right wrist, his voyance rune was still there. What did this mean? Why did Clary not have runes, but he did?

Walking along the sidewalk, he went pass shops that he looked at. None would help him so far. Why? None of them were formal clothing shops, or sold formal clothing. 

He would go to the ball. It was the best way to find someone with information. Most likely a warlock.

Another problem was that he didn’t have any money. Well, not dollars. A few pound coins rattled about in his back-jean pocket.

Heading toward a bustling crowd, a plan formed in his mind. He slipped into the crowd unnoticed. Around him not were shouts and calls out from mini outdoor shops – stalls.

She found portal travel much easier than car travel. One benefit was that it was much shorter.

Standing next to Catarina, she opened the hefty front door. It was thick and heavy for protection – at least, that was what she understood. Catarina followed in after her.

In the forum stood Trinity Ravenstone, with her sweeping beach brown hair reaching down toward her hips. A medallion hung around her neck and she wore a black leather cropped jacket over her grey plunging t-shirt that was partially hidden by her thick hair. Her tan skin didn’t suggested she was outdoors more than she was and her dark brown eyes were nearly black. 

“Hello, Aste,” she said with unimaginable joy. Running over, she wrapped her arms around her neck in greeting.

Don’t touch me.

“Hi,” she squeaked out. She let go of her and Trinity returned to her normal stance, which meant she placed more of her weight was on one leg than the other.

“The rest are in the map room.” She smiled before she turned towards Catarina. “Idalia would like some help. She’s in the library.”

Asteria and Catarina exchanged their ‘thank you’s and ‘goodbye’s before the blue lady started heading towards one of the many staircases. As she went, she mumbled something about someone disturbing the peace.

Trinity lead her towards one of the staircases whilst she dragged her suitcase behind her. They ran up the staircase to the second floor, up two staircases, as she heaved her suitcase at speed. However, Trinity continued up the stairs, but she started walking along the hallway.

“I need to place my suitcase in my room,” she said, looking up at Trinity. A long time ago, she found she didn’t understand the rules of eye contact; in long conversations, she would purposely glance elsewhere to not creep the person out and she never understand whether she was making eye contact or not. How did others understand this world?

“I’ll meet you upstairs.” Starting to walk along the hallway, a hand touched her shoulder.

She gasped as she turned to face the girl again.

“I’ll come with you,” she answered, before she came up beside her. They walked along the hallways of bedrooms until they came across a door with gold, silver and bronze letters cut out of different types of paper stuck on the door. It spelt out ‘Asteria Celine Goldblood’.

Opening her door, she saw her unmade bed in the middle of the room. She pulled her suitcase next to the foot of her bed and left it there. Glancing around, she saw some old dust-covered picture frames containing some photos. Many were of her and Ty and occasionally other friends (actually, there was more of her other friends than Ty), but some were of her family: her dad, her step-mum and her older siblings. Never of her mother. Cameras didn’t exist there.

She slammed the door close.

“Okay, let’s go.” Huffing, she started walking. Trinity followed her and they continued on in silence.

Up the stairs they went and continued up four staircases before they reached the floor.

Soon enough, they reached the room and Trinity twisted the spherical door handle to open the door. They were immediately met by three shadowhunters.

One was a tall boy with chestnut brown hair falling his hazel eyes. He had olive skin and a chiselled jaw. His medallion hung low down his chest, which was covered by a leather top, and he wore the centurion cropped leather jacket with leather trousers.

The other boy had dark auburn hair (which could pass for brown) and many light brown freckles. Like many centurions, he wore the medallion, leather cropped jacket, leather shirt and leather pants. This contrasted with his pale white skin that had barely a hint of pink anywhere.

The last one was a blonde girl. She had her hair in dutch plaits that reached just below her shoulders and were tied by scarlet ribbons. Unlike the rest, she wore a long mint green dress. It reached her mid-calf and she wore light grey flats with a small boy on the toes.

“Thank the angel, you’re finally here,” said Krish, sighing in relief. He moved his chestnut brown hair out of his eyes and looked into her eyes.

“Yup,” she replied, walking into the room

Looking onto the table, they had set up the map. It showed the UK. At least it was a country she knew. She sighed.

Black spots covered a small area in the East of the UK. On the border of Suffolk. It signalled the uses of magic; black magic meant necromancy.

“Necromancy in Suffolk?” She tilted her head at Krish, who seemed to be leading the group.

“It’s Suffolk? I thought it was the UK?” questioned Abigail, the blonde girl with twin plaits.

Sighing, Aste replied, “Suffolk’s in England.”

Abigail nodded with an ‘oh’ sound before she turned her attention to Trinity, insisted she tied her hair up. Instead, her hair blocked out part of her map.

“Where is that near?” asked Oliver, leaning forward. The light from the glowing map illuminated his feature with shadows and white light as his face was only a few inches away. 

“Suffolk,” said Aste, monotoned. Oliver rolled his eyes with annoyance.

“I mean, like, cities.”

Abigail looked up at Oliver’s pale face and replied, “I think it’s near a holiday park.” She smiled at both of them with her glimmering light green eyes.

“How do you know that, but you didn’t know what Suffolk was a minute ago?” responded Aste, genuinely confused.

“It says on the map.” She huffed and pointed to a title on the map.

“‘Forest Cabin Parks’,” Trinity read out. “It’s directly there. It will be impossible to get in there - even with glamour runes.”

Krish got a haunting smile on his face whilst he looked down. “How about we go on holiday there?”

“Yeah, but how?” asked Trinity, standing straight so her hair was no longer covering part of the table. “We can’t book at such short notice.”

Moving across the room, Aste pulled the chair away from the desk in the corner. Sitting onto the cushion of the chair, she pressed the power button of the computer on the desk.

“I can hack the system,” she offered, turning the chari and holding her palm out flat.

“Okay, this Monday then?” suggested Oliver, coming over to the desk. He placed a hand on the top of the black chair back and the other on the desk to see the screen.

Nodding, Aste opened up a page with kids cycling on a woodland path as the main cover image. Then she opened up a black window with white words of code in lines.

Pausing a second, she turned and asked, “Can I invite Ty?”

“Yeah, invite your boyfriend.” Abigail shrugged off.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she muttered quite loudly under her breath, glaring daggers at the desk as she typed. With one of her hands, she reached into her back-pocket and pulled out her phone.

AsteriaG: We’re going to a holiday park for a mission. Would you like to come if you can?  
AsteriaG: It’s on Monday.  
AsteriaG: It’s in a forest, not a beach.

“It’s alright Aste, we all know,” Trinity replied, lightly laughing having heard what she had muttered before. “We would invite him anyway, darling.”

She never understood people. Honestly, she found Trinity more attractive than Ty – or any guy for that matter. Trinity had a soft slopping nose with a rosy hue to it and dark red lips shimmering with cherry red lip gloss. She could push her frizzy hair out of her face when looking up into her pretty black eyes. And…

Her cheeks went red hot.

“He is not my boyfriend,” said Aste, her voice cold. Looking up to see Trinity leaning over on her other side, they made direct eye contact. “We are both single.”

“You’re blushing though,” said Abigail, coming over to the group of them. “You like him.”

“No, I don’t.” She continued typing on the computer until she was one click away from booking the trip. “I’ll wait till Ty responds. What else do we know about the case?”

Several hours pass as they discussed the case as well as what they could do.

“We should book the villa now,” said Krish. His eyebrows were pushing together, causing shadowed creases as his eyes didn’t break the glare from the edge of the desk where Asteria’s hand was. He seemed stress to her.

“I’ll check my phone then,” she replied and went to look at her phone.

There was no response.

AsteriaG: Sorry, we’re having to book now.

“He’s not coming,” she said, not looking up from her phone.

“Oh, sorry, Aste,” Abigail replied, leaning over. She kissed her forehead and the heat rose to her face. “I wish Ty could come too, but he does have his own mission. He probably is just busy.”

Walking over, Abigail went around Trinity and pushed herself up onto the desk. She sat down on one side of the computer whilst facing them and swung her legs without touching the ground, the desk was quite tall for a desk. Though Abigail was quite a bit taller than her.

“You’re blushing.” She giggled.

Ty headed down the alley and onto a relatively busy street. Even his suitcase hadn’t come with him. And why did it have to be New York? It was way too busy for anyone’s liking.

Sighing, he continued walking down the street, avoiding people as much as possible. 

“Ty!” a voice shouted behind him. Turning, he saw a familiar blonde head. Her hair was in a high ponytail and she wore a dark grey tank top with black jeans. She had an antique handbag on one shoulder on bare skin as her jacket was tied around her waist. It showed one clear detail. Or the detail that wasn’t there.

She had no runes.

“Emma?” he questioned. Could it really be her? She had no runes and Emma loved being a shadowhunter. It was the best part of her life – other than Julian.

“Yes, it’s me, Ty-Ty,” she responded, coming towards him so no one else stood between him. “Thank god I finally found you. We didn’t know which address to send it to.”

God? God! Did Emma ever use that term instead of ‘the angel’? What was going on with this world?

World? It made sense that it was a different world. Emma wasn’t a shadowhunter because she hadn’t been born one. And the Blackthorns must have not been born as shadowhunters as Emma knew who he was.

“What thing did you want to send to me?” he asked hesitantly. He probably didn’t live with his family here as they didn’t seem to be certain of his address. Maybe he was in University.

“Oh, it’s an invitation to Clary’s mother’s 10-year anniversary of the opening of her gallery,” she explained, gripping her handbag strap. Clary’s mother? As in Jocelyn Fairchild, Valentine’s ex-wife? He had never met her as she had left the shadowhunters, though she wasn’t completely detached as her husband, Luke Garroway, was a relatively prominent werewolf, but they hadn’t talked to anyone other than the New York Institute between 2007 and 2012. She was a hero for what she did to stop the first Circle. “Here, I think I’ve got one in my bag.”

Unzipping her bag, she ruffled through her bag and pulled out an A5 cream card with swirly black font and a black ivy border. She then handed him the invite.

“Err, I think I can make it,” he replied, reading the card. He had no clue what the date was, but he hoped the Ty of this world could make it so Ty wasn’t lying to Emma. Though, he might lack an invitation.

“Great as Livvy will be there,” she quickly said, forcing an off smile on her face.

Yup, definitely a different dimension.

“Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Her eyebrows furrowed into a frown. He must have gone pale. His heart was thumping loudly in his ears; he hadn’t talked to an alive, full Livvy in three years.

“Yes, I just haven’t talked to her in awhile,” he replied, glancing around to see an escape.

“Oh, I thought she saw you last Tuesday?”

“Oh, yeah, we met up,” he stuttered, looking just past her head. “I need to go somewhere now.”

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow evening,” said Emma, “bye.” She waved before she turned and headed to a nearby bus stop.

“Goodbye,” Ty responded.

Afterwards, he continued walking down the street. There was money in his wallet, so he could get something for the black-tie event. At the event, he could find someone who must know something about the downworld, so they could direct him towards someone who might be able to help him. But for that he would need to wear something that at least made him look like he belonged there.

It was tomorrow, so it was worth going.

Isla moved her arms in a circular motion as she swam further out to sea. Her legs moved apart and then together in her frog leg kick. She hated frog leg kick. It had more water resistance than the other ones.

Sea salt started collecting around her waist as she got deeper into the water and further away from the shore. This was when she started moving her body in one motion, her legs together, preforming dolphin kick.

Around her waist formed a skirt made of sea salt. It was made of strips attached at the hem and flow out in all directions in the water. The colours were unimaginable and faded into each other. She was still amazed by some of the colour that would appear in her sea salt outfits sixteen years later.

Her dark brown hair swam around her as she spotted a mermaid in the distance. A girl about her age with long tangled platinum blonde hair with dark skin. She had dark sea green scales going down from her waist, blending in with the skin of her stomach, and flared out in a thin light mint green membrane a foot after her legs would have ended – if she had legs. Covering her chest was a bikini top clasped together by a rusty metal clasp between her breasts and it was a dark red colour in a silky material and had no straps.

She quickly swam towards her, moving her arms to form a circle, her friend’s hair a beacon in the dark water.

They start swimming side by side and went to a quieter place. Along the way, they passed sting rays, massive sharks and whales as well as lots of fish, but they all quickly swam as far away as they could.

“Is anything bothering you?” asked a concerned Cascade, the mermaid teenaged girl.

“No…” she replied, her voice a hundred notes at once. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she looked towards the faraway seabed. Looking back up at Cascade, she could see her annoyed look directed towards her. 

“Yes…” she admitted.

“Do you want to tell me?” suggested Cascade, completely fine with either decision.

“Okay,” she started, taking a breath that ended up being a gulp of water. “My mom is talking to a shadowhunter.”

Cascade started at her, wide eyed.

“As a client,” she continued, “I mean, when did she start taking clients? And for what?!” Her voice was raised at the end. She waved her arms about in the water in anger, which meant they had stopped swimming forward. “And a shadowhunter! We don’t talk to shadowhunters!”

The mermaid’s eyebrows furrowed. “Well, I’m not sure there’s anything you can do. It’s concerning, but the only people who can prevent it are other shadowhunters.”

Isla nodded in agreement.

The topic was changed quickly and they continued on talking for hours: exploring caves in the cliffs, racing through a sand mist along the seabed, and collecting sea glass.

Later, she laid down on the carpet at the foot of the bed. It was soft on her skin due to a replacement for a softer material after several rashes had appeared on her skin.

Her sea salt skirt was slowly falling apart in clumpy pieces and her bikini was dripping down her body and soaking the carpet. It was slowly drying on her.

The door slammed against the wall.

Stomping into the room, her mom came wearing the same clothes from earlier. Her face was bright red and one of her hands were clenched in a fist at her side.

“Where were you, Isla?” asked her mom, keeping her voice down as their neighbourhood had ported whilst she was out.

However, she just continued laying there in the silence with her arms above her head. Not a care in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I planned to upload this sooner, but this took ages to write. I'm not sure how frequently I will upload, but I'm on summer holidays so it will be more frequently than it could be.


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